On The Road
by Wildcat023
Summary: Dean & Sam meet up with an old friend.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural nor do I own any of the characters, they belong to creators. The only thing that does belong to me, is the plot and any characters that may show up.

**Chapter one**

* * *

_Whiskey, gin and brandy  
With a glass I'm pretty handy  
I'm trying to walk a straight line  
On sour mash and cheap wine  
So join me for a drink boys  
We're gonna make a big noise_

Sam Winchester lifted his head up and glanced at the tape player. Another AC/DC song was playing. This was not his choice of music; he would never play _Have a Drink on Me_.

_So don't worry about tomorrow  
Take it today  
Forget about the check  
We'll get hell to pay_

Sam turned his attention to his older brother, Dean. His finger tips tapping on the steering wheel, on beat, too. "Dean."

_Have a drink on me  
Have a drink on me  
Yeah  
Have a drink on me  
Have a drink on me  
On me_

"Dean."

_Dizzy, drunk and fightin'  
On tequila white lightnin'  
Yes my glass is getting shorter  
On whiskey, ice and water  
So come on and have a good time  
And get blinded out of your mind_

Sam sighed at the ignorance from his brother. "Dean!" he spoke louder this time, which seemed to snap Dean out of his music trance.

Dean turned head to Sam, a questioningly expression on his face. "What is it?"

"You really need to learn how to listen to music and still pay attention to other things,"

"I'm payin' attention."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"What is it you want?"

"Can we have some silence for a while? We've been listening to AC/DC songs for the last hour, and I really could do with some silence."

"House rules Sammy, driver picks the music—"

"Shotgun shuts his cakehole, yeah I know, Dean," Sam said, finishing his sentence. "Just come on, turn it off."

Sam watched him, waiting for any sign of him going to shut the music off…

_So don't worry about tomorrow  
Take it today  
Forget about the check  
We'll get hell to pay_…

The song stopped, and silence took over which made Sam sigh in relive, no more AC/DC blasting through his eardrums.

"So, tell me again what's been happening in Las Vegas?"

Sam lowered his eyes to his laptop that sat on his knees. The monitor light shined on him, making him have a light white glow to him. He fixed his eyes on the writing on the site he kept opened for when he would need to read from it again. Even though he had no internet access, he was glad he could still view the page without having to worry about changing the page to another part of the site.

"Two People have disappeared. Sources say it happened at The Plaza Hotel."

"When was the last disappearance?"

"Tuesday night… that was four days ago."

"Are there any witnesses? Dean asked glancing at him.

"None that are listed," he replied while he scrolled down the page. "According to this one is a man and the other was a woman."

"To be honest with you, this doesn't sound like our type of gig," Dean told him. "It could be some person kidnapping them for their own sick pleasure."

"We've checked out other cases like this, and it usually _did_ end up being our kinda gig," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

--------------

Dean parked his '67 Chevy Impala in front of the Plaza Hotel later that evening just before it started to get dark. He shut the engine off before he leaned forward in his seat, glancing at the building through the windshield. "So this is it, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam answered opening his door and climbed out.

"From what I read about this place, one of the owners, Bryon T Mills, was uncertain about this place, and at one point wanted to demolish it, but never followed through with his plans," Sam told Dean while he stepped around to the front of the car. "To this day it's been reported that he revisits this place at night."

"Did this guy die?" Dean asked, looking at his brother.

"Yeah, he did."

"Maybe Bryon is the reason the people disappeared," Dean suggested as he stepped away from the car and toward the entrance of the building.

"I don't think so," Sam said following him.

"Think about it, Sam," Dean faced him, stopping in his tracks. "The guy comes back at night, and what for? It's not like he can do much now that he's dead. Spirits have ways of communicating to the living, whether it's through electronics; lights flickering, radios or TV's turning on suddenly. Some have a brief moment of having a human contact. We have dealt with things like that," he reminded him. "Hell, we've dealt with zombies."

"Yeah, true," Sam agreed. "So, I guess we could find out as much as possible and see how we can end the disappearances."

"We should split up," Dean said. "We'll meet back by the car in thirty-minutes."

"Alright," Sam agreed.

Dean walked down the wooden floor with long strides. He stopped and glanced down at his watch. Twenty-Five minutes and still haven't found anything helpful. He turned around the corner. Holding the E.M.F meter firmly in his hand, he waited for it to signal for any signs of a body or spirits. "Sam better have more luck than I am," he thought aloud.

The only sound he heard was the floorboard creaking under his weight, with the occasional sound of a rat running around, or the gust of wind outside, which made some of the windows whistle from the cracks in the corners.

Continuing down the hall glancing at the E.M.F meter at times when it would start making a light buzzing sound, indicating he was getting close to something, or something was getting close to him. He stopped in his tracks suddenly when a sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. He listened to the footsteps, trying to figure out if it was man or woman. The person got closer to where he was, and he realized they were coming from behind him.

He shut the meter off and stuck it back inside his jacket. He began turning around to come face to face with the person, and when he did, they forcefully pushed him against the wall, his back hitting the concrete hard. Before he could make out the person in the dim light that shined through the windows, he felt a cold object touch his neck. Realizing it was a knife, he didn't try to push them off, not wanting to bring danger upon himself when he had no idea who the visitor was.

"Who are you?" the new comer asked, finally letting him know whom exactly he was dealing with.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he answered. "I now know you're a girl with a knife that will cut through my skin if you push any harder."

"Tell me who you are and what you're doing here?" she asked showing no signs of taking the knife away from his neck, or taking her hand off his chest, that held him against the wall.

"Dean Winchester," he told her. "Now tell me who you are?"

"Winchester?"

Dean raised an eyebrow when he heard the surprise in her voice when she spoke.

"I won't answer anymore of your questions until you answer mine."

Dean felt her hold on him loosen, and she stepped away from him, the knife finally off his neck.

"The name's Rachel," Rachel said sticking her knife inside the slot on the side of her pants.

"Rachel?" he repeated. "Johnson?"

Rachel pulled her flashlight out of her back pocket, and she flicked it on, she shone it on him. "I'll be damned…" she said a moment later. "Dean Winchester," she shook her head with a short laugh. "Dean, boy, it's been far too long."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see her.

"Probably the same thing as you," she said.

"You're a hunter now?"

"Yeah, I am," she said, now walking away from him and down the hall.

Dean quickly followed her. "Why are you hunting? You were always—"

"Against it, yeah, I know," she said stopping and faced him. "The demon that killed your mom killed Jake…"

"Rachel, I'm sorry."

She turned away from him and continued down the hallway. "After he died, I wanted to find that damned thing so I learned everything I could about hunting, guns and all that jazz," she said. "I'm going to find it and kill it."

"Rachel," Dean grabbed a hold of her arm, turning her around to face him. "That's not a good idea. Look, I understand you want to have revenge, but it's not a good idea. The yelled-eyed demon, it's nasty… you won't be able to handle it by yourself."

"So help me," she said staring him right in the eye.

Even in the dim light, he could see how dark her eyes seemed. The blue eyes he remembered seemed darker, almost grey. He wished she didn't have to go through what he went through. "I think maybe it might be best if you just—"

Rachel pulled her arm away from his grasp. "What, go home and do nothing? Forget it, Dean. There's no way in hell am I going to sit at home knowing that thing is out there."

"I understand you—"

"If you understand so much, why won't you help me?" she asked, interrupting him again.

He sighed. "Alright, I'll help."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded in reply, and then they walked down the hall in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I want to say sorry if the last part of the chapter sounds wrong/bad.**  
**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"Rachel the hunter," Sam shook his head. "That's going to take time to get used to."

"That's for sure," Dean agreed.

Rachel laughed. "It's not _that_ hard to believe."

"Actually, it is," Sam said. "You were always against us hunting. Saying it's a waste of time."

"I still think it's a waste of time, half the time anyway, but it's worth every minute."

"Why do you think that?"

She glanced at Dean who was sitting across from her at the table in the motel room they were in. "All those people I help… save. It is worth it. Every time I save somebody, I realize they'll continue on with life because of what I did."

"It is worth it," Sam agreed. "Saving a life is what the best part is. On the other hand, getting hurt is what sucks the most."

Rachel groaned. "Ain't that the truth," she said with sigh. "I've gotten more cuts, broken bones, and bruises than I did growing up as a kid."

"Same," Dean nodded.

They sat in silence for a few moments until a creaking sound of a chair broke the silence. Rachel pushed her chair away from the table, standing up, causing the chair to creak from the sudden lightness when her weight was no longer on it.

"Well, boys, I guess I'm gonna go," she announced grabbing her light brown jacket off the back of her chair.

"We'll see you in the morning, then," Sam said.

"You bet," she nodded. "Goodnight," she said as she headed for the door and gripped the doorknob in her hand while she looked over her shoulder and gave them a smile and then she opened the door and stepped outside.

Dean watched her close the door behind her before he looked at Sam. "I hope we aren't makin' a mistake by letting her join us."

"I don't think so," Sam said standing up. "From the looks of things, she's learned everything she's needed to know," he added while he headed for the bathroom.

Dean sighed leaning back in his seat, he lifted his legs up on the chair Sam had sat in and crossed his arms over his chest, shutting his eyes while he relaxed for a couple of minutes.

--------------

Dean shut the door to his motel room before he headed toward his car while he pulled on his leather jacket.

"Goin' somewhere?"

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned toward a car, he saw Rachel sitting on the hood of it. Her head and back up against the windshield, her legs hung over the edge of the front.

"Yeah, I was gonna go check out one of the bars," he told her as he stepped closer to her. "What're you doing up?"

She sat up and pushed some strands of her blonde hair out of her face. "I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to come out here and lie on your car?"

"I decided to come out here and lay on my car to watch the stars," she said as she moved more to the left side of the car. "Have a seat."

Dean hopped up on the hood next to her and glanced at her. "So, have any theories 'bout that hotel?"

"Not at the moment," she told him lying back down.

He decided to do the same and when he did, he saw the stars shining brightly.

"Hey Dean…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember that one time when you shot out one of the windows at your house with the BB gun?"

He gave a short laugh. "How can I forget? My dad grounded me for a month. I had to pay for a new window myself with all the work I had to do 'round the house."

"The only thing with that, you didn't do it alone."

He turned his head toward her. "You helped me whenever Sam or my dad wasn't around."

"Does Sam know I helped?"

"No," he said looking back up at the stars. "I guess it doesn't matter now, though."

"Yeah," she said. "How is your dad, by the way?"

Dean kept quiet, not wanting to answer.

Rachel looked over at him and she could see the look of sadness wash over his face. His jaw tight a little, and his lips pressed together. "He's… he didn't…"

"Yes…"

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know."

"It's ok."

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted her. "We're fine."

She nodded not wanting to push the subject any further seeing how he didn't really want to talk about it. "I suppose we should go back to the hotel tomorrow and see what else we can find there, and hopefully this time we can find something."

"Yeah, we should," he agreed.

Neither spoke for several minutes, eventually they decided to get off the car and go separate ways. Dean went to his car to go to a bar while Rachel went to her motel room.

By noon the next day, the three went back to the hotel and stood in front of it.

"We should split up," Dean said looking at both his brother and friend. "We'll meet back here in an hour, or sooner when we find anything. Keep the cells on."

They went in different directions once they went inside. Rachel went north and Dean went south, while Sam went east.

--------------

"Son of a…" Rachel mumbled placing a hand to her throbbing head. She opened her eyes and saw she was lying on the floor in a room. She sat up and started to stand up when she realized there's rope tied to one of her legs, which kept her from going anywhere. "Great," she sighed. Snapping her head toward the other side of the room, she heard a groan. "Who's there?"

"Sam," he said sitting up.

"Is there any rope on one of your legs?"

"Yeah, there is…"

"Perfect," she sighed again. A second later she looked around the room in hope of finding something to cut the rope. "Idiot!" she said a moment later.

"What is it?" Sam asked, confused by her sudden out burst.

"I have a knife," she told him as she reached into her side pocket and felt for her knife, once she got a hold of it, she pulled her hand out and then leant forward, grabbing the rope and began cutting it. When the knife cut through the rope, she stood up, and went over to Sam and started to cut him free.

Sam stood up and headed toward the door and tried to open it. "It won't open," he told her as he turned around.

"Most likely locked," she said. "We could always try the window."

"That's a fourth story drop."

"Good point."

"The cell phone," Sam thought aloud while reaching into his pocket, and then frowned.

"Let me guess, it's gone?"

He nodded.

"Figures," she sighed. "We could always yell for Dean in hope he might hear us."

"I doubt that would do much good."

"Well damn, keep shootin' down my suggestions."

Sam stood there for a moment and then saw a wooden chair by a corner, so he walked over to it.

"What are—"she tried speaking but the sound of the chair hitting the wall interrupted her. "Ok, Sam, what are you going to do with a broken chair?"

Sam gave her a quick look before he walked over to the window and brought the leg of the chair up, swinging his arms back before quickly bringing them forward, smashing the window.

"Decided to find a way out through the window?"

"We could try to call out to someone from outside," he said as he set the piece of chair to the floor and leaned out the window, looking for anyone walking by. A moment later, he stepped away from the window and looked back at Rachel. "The area is empty."

"Now that's shocking," she said sarcastically. "It's probably because everybody is near busier and cooler places than sticking around this place."

"What's with the sarcastic remark?" he asked.

"When I get frustrated I become sarcastic," she told him. "You'll need to get used to it."

"You don't seem frustrated," he said matter of fact.

"Being kidnapped and stuck in a room is making me frustrated."

"We need to come up with a good, helpful plan to…" he stopped in mid-sentence when his eyes saw some smoke come out of a vent in a corner.

"What is it?" Rachel asked turning around to see what he's looking at.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?"

"Whoever put us here wants us to pass out."

"So, that's what, sleeping gas?"

"Apparently, come over here by the window, maybe if we stick our heads out the window, it might help.

Rachel walked over to him and they leaned out the window. Only then did they realize, it didn't exactly work, they began to get sleepy when the smoke finally reached them. They both fell to the floor.


End file.
